Do You Believe In Santa Claus?

“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”

The question came last night from the little girl in a puffy pink jacket sitting next to me. She had been in my seat by the window when I boarded the plane and I had told her as much, so she fumbled with her seatbelt and had already slid over to the aisle before I realized how Grinch-like it was for me to tell her she was in my seat. She probably wanted to look outside.

So I asked her if she wanted to sit by the window and she said yes please and thank you and scooted back over. I settled into the seat next to her as she pulled out a beat-up Hershey’s chocolate bar from her coat pocket. She unwrapped it, broke off half, and held it out to me.

“Do you want to share?”

She introduced me to her stuffed animal and we spent the flight playing Rock Paper Scissors and talking about the important things. She asked me if I was married and then why I wasn’t. She guessed my age and I guessed her’s. I showed her a picture of my horse and she asked me I was sure my horse wasn’t really a camel.

She asked me if believed in Santa and told me she’d asked him for three things: to be good, to be able to study hard, and to be with her mama forever. But she knew she was getting something else too, because she had peeked in a bag her mama had brought home a few days ago.

She asked me what the tallest mountain in the world is and I said I thought it was Mt. Everest.

“Do you think God sits on top of it and watches over me and everyone?”

I sat there for a second, looking at this little girl whose face was shining and curious and real and beautiful and so full of promise and gratitude and sharing and love and all these things I think I’ve sometimes lost. All these things that were now being given back to me by this angel sitting in seat 7E.

And I told her yes, yes I think He probably does.

The plane touched down and rolled to a stop and she crawled over me into the aisle. As she started to walk away she turned back to say that it was nice talking to me and she hoped I’d have a Merry Christmas.

And then she was gone.

Do you believe in Santa Claus?

If he can look like a little girl in a puffy pink jacket, then yes.

I do.

The Sky Erupted

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Last night I was sitting on my horse when the sky erupted in color. I fumbled with my phone to capture the moment, thinking to myself that we try to capture a lot of moments these days but sometimes we forget to actually live them.

There’s a new For The Sender song called ‘Breathe The Sky’ about a man named Frank who died from ALS. His best friend sent me a letter and we just surprised him yesterday with songs about it. ‘Breathe The Sky’ is about how Frank is all around his best friend, in the sky he breathes, and as we played for him my heart grew bigger and bigger.

After everyone left, I got in my truck and headed out to my horse. As the dusk came on I thought about a lyric from ‘Breathe The Sky’ that we had just sung that afternoon: And now the sun is setting on the lake tonight / Just the beginning of another morning light.

Isn’t this what we need to remember when things get dark? That there’s a promise there of light, if we can just get through these moments now?

That’s when I looked up to see color where there was none before and wondered if this sunset was the start of another sunrise.

Or maybe it was just Frank saying ‘Thanks.’